


Quietly Suburban Warfare

by toesohnoes



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-27
Updated: 2007-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"A nice house in the suburbs, mate - it's not exactly deep cover, is it?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quietly Suburban Warfare

They'd been in this position before.

Two men and a gun; Claude still wore the scar from the last time around, although this time he had the distinct advantage of being the one to bear the weapon as opposed to the victim. That was certainly an improvement, but ideally there would be no need for firearms at all. Nasty things, weren't they?

Ideally the past few decades of his life – years spent scrounging food and slinking unnoticed through the faceless cities of America – would have been erased. He could have been starting afresh once more, exploring the wonders of a new power without the intervention of a shady-faced company that truly was too good to be true.

Erasing those years would involve erasing a certain Bennet family but at that moment as Noah gave him a scowl curiously reminiscent of the ones that Claude had received as a teenager sneaking home late at night, he couldn't say that he'd really object to that idea at any great volume. He held onto the gun with a lazy ease as he scowled right back at the pissed-off ex-Company man in front of them.

The room they were in was a little too cosy for his taste: there was unfinished homework sprawled on the ground and the television was still quietly playing behind Bennet. Claude couldn't work out what program it was but it seemed to involve lots of people being arrested and an embarrassing amount of fake science being completed.

He took a deep breath in through his mouth, enjoying the moment; it was a moment that was somewhat ruined by the air smelling strongly of the dog that Sandra allowed to roam in this domestic little sanctuary.

"Claude?" Bennet said immediately. The tone of his voice was more world-weary that it had been when Claude had first met him, but the undercurrent of emotion and concern still lingered there. That'd get him killed one day, Claude was relatively sure of that. "How did you find us?"

"Wasn't difficult," Claude snorted – even though he'd spent weeks and weeks chasing red herrings and dead ends. No need to let on about that nugget though, was there? Nah, he'd rather just smirk as wide as he could and let himself put Bennet more on edge that he'd been before. "A nice house in the suburbs, mate - it's not exactly deep cover, is it?"

He watched the worry dig deep lines through Bennet's mind and knew that he'd probably have to feel guilty if he found that, through some dire coincidence, poor Claire was uprooted from this average little life by the end of the week. Right then, though, he grinned and rubbed a hand over the bristles of his beard with the hand that wasn't currently wielding a gun in the general direction of his one-time colleague and current-time enemy.

Or current-time not-quite-ally, in any case. He couldn't really imagine that Bennet was firm enough to be anyone's ally or enemy on any particular point of view other than the general _keep Claire safe_ mission he'd drilled himself with.

"Perhaps not," Bennet conceded. That alone was enough of a surprise to cause Claude's eyebrows to rise. Bennet backing down? Somewhere, in some small part of the world, pigs were flying. He was sure of that much – and as he existed in a reality where invisibility and time-travel and self-regeneration were all too possible, it didn't seem too far-fetched at all. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here, Claude. I can't imagine you came all this way just to wave a gun at me all night."

A challenge twinkled in Bennet's eyes behind the lenses of his ridiculous glasses, but Claude wasn't sure how to react any more. There was a time when he would have know exactly what to do – he would have recognised that the expected response was to shove the rookie back against the nearest available surface and teach him a lesson, show him who was boss. Unfortunately, 'the rookie' was no longer a rookie and Claude wasn't one hundred percent sure who was the boss any more.

Maybe him, he guessed. He was the one holding the gun this time around, wasn't he?

He lowered the weapon cautiously but couldn't quite make himself pull his gaze away from the too-intense gaze, even though a knowing smirk teased at the corner of Bennet's mouth. He'd always hated that expression, back on the job, back when they were younger and way too naïve. That little half-smirk had been the one thing that had told him that Bennet knew exactly the way he affected his colleague and that he liked to play up and play _around_ with him whenever he had the opportunity. It hadn't been fair then and it certainly wasn't fair now.

Claude wasn't going to get mixed up with those games. Not this time around. People are shit, emotions are useless, and if he didn't step back now he'd end up like that Petrelli idiot, exploded over New York in a blaze of useless glory.

No sodding thanks.

"Heard you've turned into something of an art collector since you 'retired'," he said, focusing back on the task at hand and on the flat, brown-wrapped and distinctly painting-shaped parcel that he'd lugged all this way with him. "Figured I might lend a hand – ease the way a little, seeing as I doubt you two numpties'll manage it by yourselves." It wasn't as if it had been difficult either; he'd figured that he might as well make good use of his ability for once.

Bennet's brow creased with curiosity or apprehension as he moved towards the parcel, his hands working to release the brown string that held it together. Without waiting to see the image contained within – he'd already spent so long, too long, staring at it and barely daring to breathe – Claude let the wet, warm feeling of his invisibility melt over him as he turned away and moved quietly to leave this house, this home.

He didn't look back as he heard the shocked hiss of air through Bennet's teeth. He wouldn't look back to see himself depicted on that canvass, wouldn't look at the red splashes of colour that smeared his broken, half-visible frame. Didn't need to see it, didn't want to confront death. He had enough worries as it was and Bennet-

Well, Bennet could handle this one by himself. Claude planned only on getting the hell out of here.


End file.
